


A Hundred Minus One

by carolinecrane



Series: fetish [7]
Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-06
Updated: 2012-05-06
Packaged: 2017-11-04 22:24:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/398860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinecrane/pseuds/carolinecrane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you move in together, eventually somebody finds the yearbooks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hundred Minus One

Greg's stuff has been in Nick's house long enough for it to start feeling like _their_ house. There are still a few boxes left to be unpacked, but their things are mingling together already and it's kind of nice to walk in and feel like he's home instead of just visiting.

It's not like he's never lived with anybody before – there were roommates in college, then that brief thing that led him to New York and taught him a lot about himself, like exactly what he's willing to compromise on and what constitutes a deal breaker. Since then there hasn't been anyone serious enough to change his phone number for, but this thing with Nick…well, it better be permanent, because he's got the evidence inked on his left hip.

And that's probably the dumbest thing he's ever done; he's still not sure why he did it, if he was trying to freak Nick out or just force him into making a commitment. He definitely didn't expect Nick to take it so calmly, and asking Greg to move in with him was the last thing on his mind. But it worked out in the end, and that's all that matters to Greg. 

It worked out better than he ever could have predicted, and that's why he's still a little nervous that Nick might change his mind. All the times he's moved in the past he's taken his time unpacking, getting a feel for the place before he decides where things go. This time, though – this time he unpacked half his stuff that first night, and Nick finally had to drag him to bed to get him to stop. 

He'd never admit it to Nick, but part of him thinks that if he insinuates himself far enough into Nick's life it'll be harder for him to change his mind and kick Greg right back out again. So he's mixed up their books and stashed all his video games in the box with Nick's, hung his clothes in Nick's – their – closet and stocked the bathroom with an alarming number of hair care products. And it feels…right, letting himself in with a key that he doesn't have to give back and seeing his things alongside Nick's in every room.

When he finishes with the CDs – most of which Nick will probably never let Greg listen to while he's around anyway – there's one box of books left to unpack. He considers leaving them in the box, stashing them in the spare room closet where he can forget about them until he needs something, but Nick's well into a double shift and it's not like he has anything better to do. 

There's not much room left on the bookshelf, but he squeezes old college textbooks onto the shelf between Nick's yearbooks and the crime novels he reads sometimes. When he runs out of space he sits back, head tilted to one side as he considers which books Nick wouldn't miss if he took them off the shelf to make room for his own. He briefly considers packing up the paperbacks before he decides Nick might notice that, passes by Nick's back issues of _Sports Illustrated_ and finally comes to rest on the row of carefully ordered yearbooks.

Greg's not even sure where his own yearbooks are anymore – in his parents' attic, maybe, if they didn't sell all his stuff in a yard sale when he moved to Vegas. He's not surprised to find all of Nick's stacked side by side, though, sorted by year starting with grade school. He grins and pulls one out, flipping through the pages until he finally finds a twelve-year-old Nicholas Stokes grinning back at him. He finds another picture of Nick in his junior high Science Club, barely making out the familiar face in the rows of teenagers.

He reaches for Nick's freshman yearbook next, flipping to the page with Nick's picture before he turns to the club section. And he's sure Nick's parents still have all these pictures in color, carefully framed in their family room along with pictures of all his siblings. He shakes his head and scans the pages for the Science Club again, finally locating Nick in the back row. He has to squint to make out Nick's features, but he grins anyway and flips through the rest of the club section looking for another mention of Nick's name.

He's almost given up when he spots it – he recognizes Nick before he sees his name, but he has to look twice because he's positive he's seeing things. Only the caption under the picture is clear – _Nick Stokes ropes the first calf of the season_. There's a whole page dedicated to the Rodeo Club, but Greg barely notices because he's too busy staring at Nick's fifteen-year-old ass in jeans and a pair of leather chaps.

The second he starts picturing Nick without the jeans he closes the book, shoving it back in place and reaching for Nick's senior yearbook this time, because if he's going to lust after his boyfriend in leather he wants Nick to at least be closer to legal in the pictures. He skips Nick's senior picture, flipping right to the back of the book and another full-page layout of the Rodeo Club, in color this time and…God, Nick must have been the star of the show.

He's facing the camera this time, smiling that smile Greg would recognize anywhere, wearing one of those hideous western-cut shirts and there's no way Greg's ever going to be able to look at him without blushing again, because seventeen-year-old Nick's holding a lasso. He's still wearing the chaps too, and even though Greg can't see much of them in the picture, he can picture them. And he knows Nick's from Texas so none of this should surprise him, but he never figured Nick Stokes for a cowboy. 

The front door opens behind him and he looks up, ignoring the tension in Nick's features as he holds up the yearbook. "You've been holding out on me."

Nick frowns until his gaze focuses on the yearbook, then his features relax into a smile and he starts forward, lifting the book out of Greg's hand. "God, I haven't looked at this in forever."

"Do you still have those?"

"Have what?"

"Those," Greg answers, standing up and gesturing impatiently at the picture. "The rope, the leather, the gloves…everything."

"G, this was a long time ago," Nick answers, and he sounds almost wistful for a second. "I haven't even been on a horse since college. I probably couldn't rope anything if my life depended on it."

And he's missing the point, but he's probably tired so Greg's willing to be patient. "You don't have to rope anything. Unless you want to. I just want to know if you've still _got_ that stuff."

"No," Nick says, and Greg's disappointment must show on his face, because for a second he looks almost guilty. "What, you've got a thing for chaps now?"

"I like to try new things," Greg answers, and when Nick laughs wearily he has to swallow a rush of affection. "There's a western store in Henderson."

Nick shakes his head and closes the yearbook, reaching around Greg to set it on the bookshelf. "I'm not playing dress-up with you after a double shift. Right now all I want is a hot shower and bed."

"Hey, I can wait. Just as long as I know there's something to look forward to."

That gets him a grin and Nick's hand on the front of his shirt, pulling him forward to press their lips together. "There's plenty to look forward to. Starting with that shower."

"That an invitation?"

"Just as long as you don't start making rodeo jokes."

"So jokes about riding are out too?"

Nick groans and buries his face in the crook of Greg's neck, breathing in deeply before he looks up again. "If I wasn't so beat I'd make you pay for that."

"Promises, promises," Greg murmurs against his skin, pressing his mouth to Nick's neck as he drags the other man toward the back of the house. By the time they reach the bathroom there's a trail of clothes marking their path down the hall, and he pulls away from Nick long enough to turn the water on before he steps out of his boxers. 

He's already hard by the time Nick pulls him into the shower, pulling him close for more slow kisses as the water warms his skin. And he was only half-joking about the western store, but even if Nick's not into a little role-playing it doesn't really matter. This is enough – Nick's hands on him, his mouth feathering kisses along Greg's shoulder when he leans across Nick to reach for the shampoo. Anything else is just a bonus, and there are still times he wants to pinch himself just to make sure he hasn't dreamed up everything that's happened between them.

"How was work?"

Nick groans, although whether it's the result of the word 'work' or Greg's hands working shampoo into his hair he's not sure. "Pointless. Twenty straight hours and we still came up empty-handed. Gris is probably still at it."

"He's one of those guys who's going to drop dead on the job someday."

"Probably."

"You're not going to, are you?"

"What?" Nick asks, his expression a mixture of humor and confusion when he glances over his shoulder at Greg. 

Greg tightens his grip enough to turn him so he's facing forward again, letting the water rinse the shampoo out of Nick's hair. "Go out like that. I don't want to get a call someday that you stroked out at a crime scene because you were too wrapped up in your job to take care of yourself."

Nick laughs at that, but it's a little shaky and Greg wonders if he's ever thought about this. Greg hasn't – not until right now, anyway, but suddenly it seems important. 

"You just moved in. Shouldn't you wait until I put your name on the mortgage to start planning my death?"

Greg lets out a heavy sigh and pulls his hands out of Nick's hair, letting the other man turn to face him. "If you want to die on me, fine. But it better be in bed so at least I can brag about my killer virility. When you're eighty, and I’m still a youthful seventy-seven."

"You planning to stick around that long?"

It was just a joke – Nick's smiling, ready to laugh it off if that's what Greg wants, but there's a question in his eyes and Greg finds himself nodding in spite of the sudden knot in his stomach. "Figured I might. I mean I'm already branded."

Nick laughs and covers Greg's tattoo with one hand, fingers splayed possessively across wet skin. "I thought I said no rodeo jokes."

"You said it, I never agreed to go along with it." 

The sound of Nick's laughter is swallowed in the kiss as Greg leans forward, fitting their mouths together. He's pretty sure he just proposed – sort of, anyway, and even though he didn't say the words he knows Nick agreed. He knows there's not going to be any ceremony at some tacky chapel with their friends gathered around – he's never been much for tradition anyway, so that doesn't really bother him. Still, it gives him plenty of time to talk Nick into a new pair of chaps, and if he plays his cards right he might even get the lasso.


End file.
